


The Child is Father to the Man

by Annoying_Tourist



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Cruelty to Animals, Enemies, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Karma - Freeform, Revenge, Sociopathic child, casefic, cruelty to people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15341502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annoying_Tourist/pseuds/Annoying_Tourist
Summary: That day was both the greatest and worst day of Aaron Hotchner's life . His wife had bled out under the cruel hands of the Boston Reaper, but his beautiful- though premature- baby boy was miraculously born on that day. However, unbeknownst to Hotchner, someone else was also reborn and George Foyet's soul was given another chance at life, reincarnated as his nemesis's son. (HIATUS)





	The Child is Father to the Man

A dull roar throbbed inside one of his ears, the other had gone completely deaf. He had completely lost his upper hand in the fight and now his opponent was wailing on him in a blind fury. Each blow dealt irreparable damage to his bones and soft tissues with sickening cracks and a heavy concussion made the world before his eyes ripple and distort like water. His back hit the floor…or the earth rose up and hit him in the back…he couldn't tell.

"You got me… I surrender", he gasped.

Another blow rattled the roots of his teeth in their sockets. The next one broke them loose. Eventually, he lost count and his face became throbbing, hot and numbed. He knew he was dead- or at least, if he survived, he would be absolutely messed up beyond the capabilities of any reconstructive surgeon.

He couldn't smile, but he would if he were able- because he could still hear the wails of the hysterical man in his barely functioning ear. These were the cries of a man who had lost everything that he had to live for.

George Foyet died at peace with the world. A peace far greater than what his victims had experienced under his hands. His body, roaring with dull but persistent pain, seemed to fade into unawareness and a beautiful, watery embrace surrounded him. It was dizzyingly hot- so hot it felt like it could penetrate to the marrow of his bones.

And then it was ice cold- several firm hands grabbed at him, almost with bruising strength, thunderous voices rumbled and he was pulled from his dark warmth and into the glare of the cold white lights.

George wondered: 'Is this hell?'

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

A bright light shone through George's paper-thin eyelids, painting his vision red. The world sounded muted, as if he were hearing the orders and exclamations of the doctors while immersed in thick molasses. The room's cold air sent an electric shock right up his scattered nerves and to his aching lungs. They spasmed in his chest, drowning in their own watery fluid. Unable to cough, speak or scream, George began to lose his grip on what little consciousness he had.

Gentle, glove-covered fingers pulled his chin down, a cold metal slid into his mouth and down his throat, pressing firmly against his tongue and his toothless gums. A thick plastic tube snaked down his throat.

With the hiss of air through the plastic tube, George took his first breath.

And it felt euphoric.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Sitting in the nearly empty waiting room, tears ran unashamedly down Aaron Hotchner's face, but he was beyond caring. His bloodied knuckles had been gently scrubbed clean and wrapped in a sterile dressing. He didn't feel his cuts and scrapes though- his skin was completely numb. Pressure was brewing in his stomach, just under his diaphragm and he wasn't sure what would happen when he finally broke down: would he throw up? Would he pass out?

The double doors creaked open.

His eyes burned as he turned them upwards towards the young doctor in her pink scrubs and her damp, sweat-licked hair peeking out from underneath her tight cloth cap. She had a broad grin on her face, one that crinkled the dark skin under her eyes and set dimples deep into her cheeks.

"Doctor Gibbon, what's going on?" Hotch asked.

"He's alive." She said.

"What?" Hotch asked.

"He… your baby." She tugged her cap off her head and ran her fingers through her tousled, damp hair.

"It's a boy?" Hotch stood up from his seat, heart pounding against his rib cage with the force of a drum.

"Um… yeah. You can see him now, he's currently in the neonatal intensive care unit." She turned on her heel walked towards the double doors. Hotch was frozen to the spot and stared after her.

"Are you coming?"

His son did not look peaceful at all, especially with the breathing and feeding tubes invading his nose and mouth as well as all of the monitors taped to his tiny chest. He had bright pink skin which shone like wrinkled plastic underneath the fluorescent lights and his limbs were gangly and lacking any baby fat.

"Can I touch him?" Hotch asked.

"Sure, but you can't take him out of the incubator." The doctor replied.

Hotch tentatively reached through the circular opening in the plastic with a shaking hand and stroked the palm of his son's hand with his finger. His single index finger seemed to dwarf his son's entire hand and he marvelled at the difference between his own thick, calloused finger and the newborn's soft, unblemished, paper-thin skin.

"We need to talk about some potential… complications that your son may experience given the circumstances behind his birth." The doctor said.

Hotch's a stone formed in the back of Hotch's throat and he nodded.

"Because your baby was born premature at twenty-four weeks, there is a possibility that he might experience long-term effects such as vision and hearing impairments or mental retardation. Also, due to your wife's blood loss and because it took us so long to remove him via the c-section, he has gone without oxygen for a considerable amount of time… we will not know until later what effect that this will have on his brain."

"Will he have brain damage?" Hotch choked.

"I think that you should be prepared for any outcome, good or bad." The doctor laid a hand over Hotch's tense shoulder and squeezed. "Have you thought of a name for him yet, Mr Hotchner?" Asked the doctor.

"Well… Haley really liked the name Thomas."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Thomas Hotchner was quite the talk of the neonatal unit. And with good reason, especially due to the dramatic circumstances behind the little one's birth. Being practically cut from your mother's dead body was hardly the best start to life.

It was nearing midnight and in the break room, Doctor Gibbon washed the exam glove powder from her hands and filled the kettle. This was hardly the worst case that she had seen, despite her short years working as a doctor. However, she could not help the knot of disgust that she felt deep in her stomach for the man who would kill a pregnant woman and harm her innocent unborn child.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Criminal Minds fans, I hope that you've enjoyed my humble little AU so far. I intend to write this as a multi-chaptered story centred around George Foyet. It was sort of inspired by that Criminal Minds episode where an unsub believed in reincarnation.
> 
> Just for clarity, though: this story has a slightly different timeline to the original series. Jack doesn't exist and Hayley is pregnant around the time when Foyet kills her.


End file.
